


A Regular Little Romeo

by bexlynne



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexlynne/pseuds/bexlynne
Summary: "Speakin' of names, what's yours?" He hesitated. "Like ya said, just call me Romeo." A companion to That's What Brothers Are For. A Romeo and Race series, starting with Romeo joining the newsies and ending... well, who knows when it will end?





	1. It All Started With a Nickel

_Autumn, 1894_

* * *

"Hey! You!"

Nicholas looked up sharply, seeing a blue-coated police officer starting toward him. Without a second thought, he took off running down the street. The shrill notes of a whistle sounded behind him, and he pushed himself to run faster, to dodge the people, to block out the shouts and lose the bull who was on his tail. Finally, a good six blocks from where he had started, he stopped to rest, collapsing against a red brick store front to catch his breath.

 _Breathe,_ he reminded himself. _Don't think. Just breathe._

"Don't think" had become something of a mantra to him over the past week. If he started thinking for too long, his thoughts would undoubtedly turn to the Refuge. Nick shook his head vehemently. He already saw that place every night when he closed his eyes. At least during the day he had some control over his mind.

With a sigh, Nick got wearily to his feet. Most people didn't like street kids hanging around in front of their stores. Those were the people who would just as soon call the bulls on him as give him the time of day.

_Don't think. Just breathe. Keep moving._

As he started on his way, a flash of silver caught his eye. Was that...? No, it couldn't be. His breath catching in his throat, Nick picked the coin up out of the dust. It was nickel. A real, honest-to-goodness nickel. Nick sat down on the step, thoughts of the bulls pushed from his head. There were so many things a nickel could buy! A few pieces of candy, a hot lunch, a pair of socks. The possibilities were endless.

He was trying to make a decision when a group of boys ran by, jumping over barrels and hollering on their way to work. Nick recognized them as newsies from the _World._ He had seen them before, hawking ridiculous sounding headlines on every corner in Manhattan.

An idea struck him like lightning, and Nick almost smiled. What was there to stop him from joining them? He could buy a nickel's worth of papers, sell them during the day, and double his money by nightfall.

Pleased with himself, Nick fell into the back of the line and passed through the gates of the distribution center.

* * *

Nick's shoulders slumped in defeat. It was past noon, and he still had nine of his ten papers left. At this rate, he would lose money rather than gain.

"Hey, kid," an unknown voice said, startling him out of his thoughts.

Nick jumped, dropping his papers and whirling around to face the stranger. He stood face-to-face with another newsie, maybe eleven or twelve years old. The kid had a half-empty canvas news bag hanging off his shoulder, and, in spite of his age, had an unlit cigar in his mouth.

"You'se goin' about it all wrong," he said, bending over to pick up Nick's dropped papers. "You'se new at this, I can tell. Sellin' papes- it's a game. Like poker. Ya gotta bluff a little, go all in, but first you'se gotta find an angle."

At Nick's blank expression, he elaborated further.

"Ya see that kid over there?"

Nick moved a tentative step closer, craning his neck to see where the stranger was pointing. A small, blond-haired boy with a crutch was selling papers a block down the street.

"That's Crutchie," the kid said. "He's been dealt a bad hand, so ta speak, what with his gimp leg an all, but he's turned it into a tool for sellin'. The limp itself pulls fifty papes a week. And that guy over there?" He nodded across the square to a tall, gangly kid with a patch over one eye. "That's Kid Blink. He's new here, but he milks that eyepatch for all it's worth. And me? I sell down at Sheepshead." He grinned. "The boys call me Race, since I'm at the tracks so much."

If Nick had had anything to say, he wouldn't have been able to get a word in edgewise. "What's that got ta do with me?" he asked.

Race stared at him like he had two heads. "It means you'se gotta find what work for you," he said. "Then you're set. Ya can't go wrong with a pretty goil. Even if ya mess up, they'll still buy a pape outta sympathy."

Nick's head was still stumbling to catch up with the sheer _amount_ of words the older boy spoke when a stylishly dressed young lady strolled past them.

"There's your chance!" Race told him, handing him a paper and giving him a push.

Nick stumbled forward into her path. "Hello, miss," he said, taking off his cap and sweeping a bow.

She laughed in amusement, spurring his confidence.

"Care ta make a humble newsboy's day and buy a paper?" he asked.

"Aren't you adorable?" she said. "I would love to buy a paper." Reaching into her coin purse, she handed him a nickel.

"Your change is four cents," Nick said. "But that smile's worth a million, miss," he couldn't resist adding.

The lady's face lit up in a smile. "You just made my day," she said. "Keep the change."

Nick's dark eyes lit up. Handing her her paper, he ran back to Racetrack. "A nickel!" he shouted. "Race, I made a nickel!"

The Italian grinned. "I saw," he said. "Way ta go, kid. You'se a regular little Romeo."

Nick bounced up and down excitedly. "Gimme another paper," he said. "I wanna try again."

Race handed eight papers over with a smile. "Have at it, kid," he said. "Oh, and another thing."

Nick turned around, waiting expectantly.

"Us newsies call 'em papes," Race said.

Nick's dark eyebrows knit together. "Am I a newsie?" he asked.

"Yeah," Race said with a shrug. "Ya sell papes, don't ya?"

Nick broke into a smile- his first since the Refuge. "Yeah," he said. "I do, don't I?"

* * *

"I made thirty-five cents!" Nick said, holding the coins tight in his hand. "I'se never had this much money- ever!"

Race grinned. "Well, if you'se willin' ta part with a nickel, ya can have a bed to sleep in tonight."

Nick tilted his head, thinking. "Is that where the newsies go every night?" he asked.

"Yeah," Race said. "We live at the Lodge House on Duane Street. None of us have folks, so we pay a nickel a night ta stay there."

Nick stared down at the coins in his hand. "I don't have folks, neither," he said slowly. He fished a nickel out of the pile and turned to Race. "Who do I give this to?"

Race's grin grew even wider. "Come with me," he said. "I'll introduce ya to Mistah Kloppman- and Butch. He's our leader."

Nick quickened his pace to a trot to keep up. "His name is Butch?"

Race glanced back at him. "Nah, we just call him that," he said. "He was a butcher's boy 'fore he joined the newsies. Say, speakin' of names, what's yours?"

Nick hesitated. _Don't think. Just breathe. Keep moving. Don't answer any questions._

"Just call me Romeo," he said with a grin.

 


	2. A Little Game of Poker

_Autumn, 1994_

* * *

"Today was a good sellin' day," Race said as the walked up the stairs. "You'se a good luck charm, kid. Can't wait for tomorra."

"Tomorrow?" Romeo repeated.

"Yeah," Race said. "You'se a newsie now. Ya sell papes. Carryin' the banner!"

He pushed open the door at the top of the stairs, and Romeo got his first glimpse of the bunk room. It was exactly what it sounded like- a big room full of bunk beds, with a dozen or so boys lounging around, some talking, some playing cards.

An older boy near the door stood up as they entered. "Geez, Racetrack," he said. "Give the kid a chance ta get a word in edgewise."

Romeo had to his head back to look the boy in the face. He was six feet tall and built like a brick wall. His shaggy black hair was just a little too long, and he kept pushing it back out of his eyes. Intimidated, Romeo shrunk back behind Race.

"Heya, Butch!" Race said, spit shaking with the older boy enthusiastically.

Butch laughed, returning the shake and clapping Race on the back. "And who's this?" he asked, turning to Romeo. "Ya bring home another stray?"

Romeo felt color rise to his cheeks. "I ain't a stray!" he said defensively. "I'm Romeo. I sell papes, so I get ta stay here... right?"

"Yeah, that's right," Butch acknowledged. "But ya gotta prove yourself first. Why'd ya start sellin' papes?"

Romeo paused, searching for his answer. "I found a nickel in the street," he said. "I thought I could double it by sellin' papes. I did, too."

Butch crouched down to his level, looking impressed. "Ya found some money in the street, and ya decided ta try and double it? Didn't spend it on candy, or nothin' like that?"

Romeo shook his head. "See?" he said, holding out his handful of coins.

Butch looked him up and down, nodding appraisingly. "Alright," he said. "Ya can stay. Welcome aboard, kid."

* * *

"Hey, Romeo!" someone called. A brown-haired kid, the one who always stuck close to Crutchie. What was his name again? Jack?

"We'se gonna play some poker," Jack said. "Wanna join?"

Romeo perked up. "Sure."

He wasn't the best at cards, but he was a good bluffer. There were three other boys playing- Jack, Race, and Kid Blink. They each tossed a penny in the pot, and the game began.

Almost immediately, Jack gave up. "I fold," he announced, tossing down his cards and moving to sit by Crutchie. They soon lost interest in the game, whispering back and forth together.

Romeo glanced up. He had a decent hand- three eights and a jack.

 _Now let's_ _see how the others are doin'_.

Blink was grinning, but that could be a ploy. Race's face was set in a neutral expression, harder to read. He added a nickel to the pot, and Blink did the same.

Romeo hesitated a second before counting out five pennies. Allowing a small grin, Racetrack raised the stakes by a dime. Blink folded, muttering something about a bad selling day.

"Aw, whatsamatter, Blinky Boy?" Race called. "Ya quittin' already?"

"Don't call me that," Blink retorted, knocking Race's cap off.

Race laughed before turning to Romeo. "What about you, kid?" he asked.

_Time to bluff._

Romeo added two nickels to the growing pile in the middle. The silence seemed to stretch, until finally Race threw down his cards. "Okay, kid," he said. "Guess ya win."

Romeo's face split into a smile. "I won!" he said, his pride soaring.

Race grinned good-naturedly, ruffling the younger boy's hair. "You'se tellin' me," he said. "Ya said ya didn't know how ta play."

"I lied," Romeo said matter-of-factly.

Jack laughed out loud. "Ya found someone who can give ya a run for your money, Race," he said.

"Oughta help your ego some," Crutchie added with a smile.

"Hey, quit it!" Race said, acting hurt. Then he turned back to Romeo. "C'mon, kid, spill. How'd ya get so good at bluffin'?"

"Ya don't make it through a year on the streets without lyin' some," Romeo said, counting the coins and dropping them in his pocket.

Jack leaned forward. "Ya were on the streets for a year?"

Romeo felt a sudden sense of unease. Had he said the wrong thing?

"Good for you, kid," Blink said, voicing what everyone was thinking. "What are ya, eight? After that, sellin' papes'll be nothin'."

"Like you would know," Race scoffed.

"Maybe I do!" Blink countered, getting to his feet. "You don't know me, Racetrack! You don't know where I been!"

"Who're you yellin' at?" Race demanded, clenching his fists.

Luckily, Butch caught was wind of what was happening and put a stop to it before a fight broke out. "C'mon, boys, settle down," he warned. "You make a mess in here and it'll be me you'se a-tanglin' with."

Both boys backed down pretty quickly after that.

"All of you'se better be gettin' ta bed," the leader said, glancing out the window. "I'll see ya in the mornin'." Jamming his hat on his head, he clattered off downstairs.

"Where's he goin'?" Romeo whispered to Race.

"Aw, he's goin' out ta meet his goil," Race said offhandedly. "He won't be back 'til late. C'mon, you can have the bunk below mine."

* * *

"Romeo!" Race called through the door. "You'se gonna make us late!"

"Comin'!" Romeo called, appearing fully-dressed in the doorway.

"Finally!" Race said. "C'mon. If we hurry, the nuns'll still have some food left."

"The nuns?" Romeo questioned.

"Yeah," Race said as they joined the other boys in the street. "The nuns. They hand out bread and coffee for all the kids. You musta seen 'em, if you was on the streets."

Romeo shook his head. "I ain't from 'Hattan," he said. "I usta live in the Bronx."

"The Bronx," Race repeated. "How'd ya get here?"

_Don't think. Don't answer questions._

"Long story," Romeo said finally.

Race sent him a sideways glance and decided to change the subject. "Let's get some food."

The two of them each got a hunk of bread -only slightly stale- and a tin mug of lukewarm coffee.

Romeo wolfed his down, and was done before Race had swallowed two bites.

"Slow down, kid," Race remarked. "When did ya eat last?"

"Yesterday morning," Romeo said, handing his empty cup back to one of the nuns.

Race's eyes widened. "Here," he said, handing Romeo what was left of his bread. "And we'se stoppin' by Jacobi's later for a real lunch. We made enough yesterday, and Heaven knows ya need one."

Romeo didn't argue. "Thanks, Race," he said around a mouthful of bread.

Race threw an arm around his new friend's shoulders. "Let's get our papes and get out there," he said. "You keep usin' that charm of yours on the ladies and I bet ya you can push thirty papes a day, easy."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I get a review I’ll post the next chapter! I hope you enjoy this one!


	3. Bruised and Secrets

_Autumn, 1894_

* * *

Race leaned back in his chair, grinning. Romeo was devouring his sandwich while talking so much it was a wonder he didn't choke. Quite a change from the shy, quiet kid he had picked up yesterday.

"And then I told her she had the most beautiful eyes in New Yawk, and she gave me a dime!" the kid was saying. "Ten whole cents!"

Gesturing excitedly, he reached for the salt shaker. The motion caused his sleeve to ride up, revealing a dark, hand-shaped bruise on his forearm.

Leaning forward, Race grabbed the younger boy's wrist, stopping him from withdrawing his arm. "Rome, what happened?" he asked, sounding concerned.

Romeo tried to pull away. "That ain't from today," he said. "It's old. I... I was in a fight."

Race reluctantly let go of his wrist, then lightly touched the bruising around the dark-haired boy's eye. He hadn't thought much about it yesterday, but now he wondered. "Ya get this in the fight, too?"

"I lost," Romeo said simply. He took a big bite of his sandwich to avoid further conversation.

_Don't think. Don't answer questions._

Race's eyes narrowed. He had watched Romeo play poker last night. He knew his pattern of bluffing. He saw that same pattern now. Romeo was lying. With a shrug, he forced himself to be indifferent. He disliked being lied to, but the kid was allowed to have his secrets. "Let's get out and sell while there's still daylight left," he said.

"Carryin' the banner!" Romeo said, jumping down from his chair.

Race had to grin at his enthusiasm. "Same as earlier, 'kay?" he said. "I'm goin' off this way, but I'll be close enough ta hear if ya yell for me."

Romeo nodded, and the boys parted ways.

* * *

A shrill whistle sounded off to his right, and Romeo froze with a paper still clutched in his hand.

_Don't think. Just breathe. Don't think. Just breathe. Don't think-_

"Romeo!" a voice said near his ear.

Romeo jumped. "Race!"

The Italian was watching him closely. "Ya gonna give the guy his pape, or just stand there starin'?"

Rome's cheeks flushed. "Right. Sorry." He handed the man his paper, slightly wrinkled from being held so tightly, and accepted a penny in return.

"You okay?" Race asked. "You'se all pale, and you'se shakin'." He glanced in the direction Romeo had been staring, his gaze falling on a blue-coated police officer dragging a young boy off somewhere by his collar.

What was it Romeo had said? _Ya don't make it though a year on the streets without lyin' some._

"Romeo, listen ta me," he said, taking the younger boy by the shoulders. "You'se a newsie now. This right here?" He held up his empty canvas bag. He must have sold out early and decided to seek Romeo out. "This is like a badge ta get ya anywhere in the city. So long as you'se not stealin' or nothin', the bulls won't stop ya. Got that?"

Romeo nodded. "Yeah," he said, his voice coming out a little shaky. "I..." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I'se only got three papes left. Lemme sell these, and we can head back ta the Lodge House."

Race nodded. "Works for me," he said, finding a park bench to sit on. He stuck a cigar in his mouth, but didn't light it. He was too busy watching Romeo. The kid was like one of those dime novels Jack liked to read. Not one of the western ones, a mystery. Race's face shifted into a grin. He liked mysteries.

* * *

"Time ta get up!" Butch shouted from the doorway.

Romeo started awake, sitting up and nearly hitting his head on the bed above him.

"C'mon, boys," Butch was saying with a grin. "Get up and seize the day! We got papes ta sell!"

Romeo crawled out of bed, grabbing his clothes. He paused for a second to watch Butch, remembering what Race had told him about the Manhattan leader. He used to be a butcher's boy, hence the nickname. He was only sixteen, but he looked older, making it harder to sell. Even so, he sold ninety papes a day, no matter the headline, the most out of anyone in the Lodge House. The boys said he had a girl, one he snuck out to meet every night. "As if we don't know what he's doin'," Jack had snorted, sounding much older than his twelve years.

Heading into the washroom, Romeo grinned. The fearless Manhattan leader was dunking a still-drowsy Kid Blink's head in the washtub. "Get dressed, ya bummers!" he laughed, passing Romeo on his way out.

"Someone's in a hurry," Jack piped up. "Goin' ta meet a special goil, are we?"

Butch pointed at him. "Watch it, Kelly, unless you want a soakin' next." His face split into a grin and he gestured to Blink, who was now very much awake and drying himself off. "Get it? A soakin'?" Several boys threw towels at him as he ducked out of the room, his laughter carrying up the stairs.

Romeo washed his face and used the bathroom, taking his own sweet time until he was the only one in the washroom. He was in the process of changing, his back to the door, when Race came in.

"Kid, what's takin' ya so long? We gotta..." He trailed off, staring at Romeo's bare back. An ugly mess of deep purple bruises and cuts still tipped with dried blood stained the younger boy's pale skin.

"What happened ta you?"Race asked, a touch of horror in his voice.

Romeo whirled around to face him, pulling his shirt over his head quickly. "A... a fight," he said lamely.

Race shook his head. "Don't even bother lyin' this time," he said. "Ya don't get bruises like that in a fight! And not some back-alley soakin', neither. Rome, what happened?"

Romeo opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say. "I was in the Refuge," he said finally.

Race's eyes widened. "The Refuge? Kid, when was this?"

"They let me out ten days ago, I think," Romeo said, avoiding the older boy's gaze. "C'mon, let's go get breakfast."

He started for the door, but Race stopped him. "How long they keep ya there?"

"A month," Romeo said. "Race, I gotta go sell,” he pleaded.  “Let's go."

"Fine," Race relented. "We'se gonna talk about this later, though, right?"

"Yeah, okay," Romeo said, heading downstairs.

* * *

Romeo glanced up as Race came into the bunk room. "Where'd ya sell today?" he asked. "I looked, but I didn't see ya."

"I went back ta Sheepshead," Race responded, sitting on the bottom bunk beside Romeo. "Thought it was best ta give ya some space."

"Thanks," Romeo said, picking at a loose thread in the blanket. The other boys were starting to get back, but he ignored them. They would be too busy with their own games, discussions, and fights to pay Race and Romeo any mind. "I know you'se got questions, so ask 'em," he said finally.

Race hesitated, trying to find the right way to phrase his question. "What were ya in for?" he asked at last.

Romeo lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I got caught pickin' someone's pocket."

Race's brows furrowed. "Kids on the streets pick pockets all the time," he said. "That wouldn't get ya a month in the Refuge."

"You're right," Romeo agreed. "But I messed up. I picked Snyder's pocket."

Race let out a low whistle through his teeth. Romeo acknowledged him with a nod and pressed on.

"I had stayed in the Bronx up 'til then. I knew the area there, and it was home. But he dragged me off ta the Refuge in Manhattan- here. It... it was bad, Race. I like people. You'se seen me sellin' papes. Ya know that. But in that place, I was all on my own. I hear Jack tell stories 'bout sharin' a bed with three or four other boys, but it wasn't like that. Not for me, anyway. Jack's right about Snyder, Race. He's a spider. He... he knows how ta get in your head, how ta make ya feel like you'se nothing. That was worse than gettin' beat up. Anyone can throw a couple punches, y'know? But I'se never met another man like Snyder, and I hope I never will."

He sounded so weary, like he had lived a long time. "I remember this one night," he said. His eyes were fastened on his fingers, tracing patterns on the bed. "I was layin' on my bed, and I could see the moon through the window. The window was _right there,_ just a few feet off, and I couldn't reach it. They beat me up so bad I couldn't walk to the window, Race. I couldn't _stand."_ His voice broke, and his face crumpled. Just as he had sounded old and world-weary before, now he sounded young... so, so young.

Almost before he knew what he was doing, Race pulled Romeo into a hug. The younger boy melted into his embrace.

_Don't think. Just breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

Race didn't know what to do. So, he did what he did best. He started to talk.

"I joined the newsies when I was 'bout nine," he said. "I lived with my family 'fore that. Ya ever meet an Italian family? Crazy bunch. I'm the only one who's allowed ta say that, though."

Romeo didn't move from his spot, his face still hidden in the older boy's shirtsleeve, but Race could tell he was listening.

_Don't think. Breathe and listen to Race._

"My nonna was the best cook there ever was," Racetrack continued. "And she didn't let no one else in her kitchen. She was the sweetest little old lady, but she had a mean streak in her."

Romeo shifted positions, his big brown eyes peering up at Race. "What happened to her?"

"She... well, died," Race said. "My folks, too, right afta her. Factory fire."

"Do ya miss 'em?" Romeo asked.

"My folks?" Race said. "Yeah, I miss 'em." His voice had lost the sarcastic edge to it and was uncharacteristically soft.

"I miss mine, too," Romeo said in a low voice.

 _No, no, no,_ Race thought. _This wasn't s'posed ta make him more sad!_

"Y'know what, Romeo?" he said, twisting to face him. "We'se can be our own family. Brothers, you and me. Whaddaya say?"

A smile spread across Romeo's face. "I'd like that."

* * *

Butch crept up the stairs, avoiding the one that creaked. For such a big guy, he was surprisingly adept and sneaking into places. Like his own Lodge House when he had stayed out after curfew.

Undressing in the dark, he tossed his shirt in the sink to soak. His Elizabeth had left a lipstick stain on the collar, and he knew if the boys caught sight of _that_ he would never hear the end of it. With a wry grin, the Manhattan leader tiptoed into the bunk room, trying not to disturb the sleeping boys. His bed was near the end, close to Race and the new kid.

Speaking of Race, where was he? The top bunk was empty. Crouching down, Butch caught a glimpse of Race and Romeo, both asleep on the bottom bunk. "Looks like you'se fittin' in just fine," he whispered to the sleeping Romeo.

A smile spread across his face. "G'night, boys."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like this chapter, and thank you so much to everyone who’s reviewed so far! Another review and I’ll post the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old favorite of mine. I got something like twelve chapters written before life got in the way. I’m planning on posting them all here.


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